134 POETRY OE FLOWERS, 
And think on me ! in the calm holy hour, 
Devotion’s own, when thou in prayer art bend- 
On thee^ay heaven its every blessing shower, 
Still let our prayers, tho’ absent, thus be blend¬ 
ing ! 
the ivy-song- 
Oh ! how could fancy crown with thee 
In ancient days the god of wine. 
And bid thee at the banquet be 
Companion of the vine ! 
Ivy ! thy home is where each sound 
Of revelry hath long been o’er, 
"Where song and beaker once went round, 
But now are known no more. 
Where long-fallen gods recline, 
There the place is thine. 
The Roman, on his battle plains 
Where kings before his eagles bent. 
With thee, amidst exulting strains, 
Shadow’d the victor’s tent; 
Though shining there in deathless green, 
Triumphally thy boughs might wave. 
Better thou lovest the silent scene 
Around the victor’s grave. 
